


A Million and One

by IohannaFacTotum



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IohannaFacTotum/pseuds/IohannaFacTotum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain's overactive imagination makes it impossible to forgive Abel when he stays with Keeler night after night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Million and One

It’s the millionth time they’ve had this discussion, and it always ends the same way. And yet, he can never seem to let it go.

Cain’s lying on the bed facing the wall of their little room on the _Sleipnir_ again, as far away from Abel as he can manage without forcing his bare arms and chest against the cold metal. He’s been this way for at least half an hour now, and Abel has finally give up on trying to reason with him. 

The Fighter is still furious. He can still feel his blood boiling and his teeth clenching and grinding. He still has that nagging weight hanging on his shoulders, a mixture of suspicion and betrayal and guilt, that keeps his stomach twisted in knots. He wants nothing more than to let out all of that frustration and anger in a punch or two, make Abel understand how much it hurts.

But all the same, he misses the warm touch of that frail, pale hand, the gentle tugs urging him to turn around. He’s pushed Abel’s hand away for long enough that it would seem silly to reach for it now. Besides, he’s still too angry. He’s still wallowing in his pride and pity and mental images of that sleazy son of a bitch Keeler fucking his little slut over a control panel and even that isn’t quite enough for his sick mind. He can hear every breath, every little squeak that Abel would make. He can smell the sweat and sense the heat of the navigator’s body and he can almost feel those thin hips grinding greedily against him, and just how tight that little ass would be around his cock-

Cain digs his fingernails into the sheets tight enough to make his fingers ache. 

_'It’s nothing,'_ Abel has told him, time and time again. _'It’s part of my job, that’s all!'_ But every night, he stays out later and later and if Cain knows anything, he knows damn well what that means. It’s obvious, isn’t it? If Abel’s anything like anyone else on this thrice-damned space station…

But he’s not. Abel is nothing like the rest of the scum on this floating piece of trash. And Cain knows that...

That’s when he hears it. A sniffle. An insignificant little sniff, and then a soft whimper. It’s enough to make Cain turn his head a bit and glance over at the little bed he’d pushed against his own not too long ago. He can see the tiny silhouette even in the dark. He can make out the mess of light hair, the thin waist and long legs, the slight quiver of the shoulders…

The Fighter sighs and rolls over, struggling not to get tangled in the sheets. He ultimately fails and kicks them off before reaching his arms out and wrapping one around Abel’s waist and sliding the other under the Navigator’s head. He pulls Abel closer, pressing his bare chest against the boy’s back and burying his nose in the fair hair. He presses his lips to the back of Abel’s neck. 

Abel starts to pull away, but Cain will have none of it. He tightens his hold and finally Abel stops struggling and gives in to light sobs before turning around to bury his face in Cain’s chest. 

Some whispered words and a couple of kisses later, Abel’s eyes are closed and his breathing slows. Every once in a while, a light snore escapes his throat. But Cain is wide awake. 

He’s still angry, and he’s not buying Abel’s bullshit by any means, and he’ll be damned sure to make that clear in the morning. They’ll have this discussion for the _millionth and first_ time and it’ll end just like it always does, just like it did tonight, and something about that leaves a little smirk tugging at the corners of Cain’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Are requests all I write these days...?


End file.
